Who Are You?
by Scribe of the Shire
Summary: Finale speculation. Not really a T, I guess, but not really K either. One-shot.


"Who are you?"

The real question is, who the hell am I? The confusion in my head only added to the pounding headache I'd had since I woke up. Piercing blue eyes looked deep into mine, and I realized I'd hurt her. I wanted to say I was sorry, but my throat was so dry, my tongue felt so heavy.

"Booth," she whispered. She still seemed shell-shocked by the fact that I didn't know her. I wish I could remember who she was; all I knew was that she looked like the woman from my dream. I called the dream version of her Brennan, was that her name? I know that I know her, but I _don't_ know her. It's all so fuzzy and confusing.

Then it hits me, like a bullet train slamming into the Great Wall.

I'm Seeley, the boy hiding from his drunken, abusive father; the scared but courageous young man who protects his little brother Jared and his mom from harm.

I'm Seel, or That Guy, the star quarterback and forward and shortstop who always got the girl and lives a charmed life to outsiders, who always has some excuse for the new bruises that show up after every beating.

I'm Maggot, a scared but determined trainee at boot camp, waiting for an opportunity to prove that he's brave and willing to defend his country, no matter what the costs.

I'm Sarge, a leader to other men, a man who stays hidden in the shadows and silently fights a war, who has seen too much but must continue to see more in order to protect those I love who are back home.

I'm Mr. Booth, the college student, trying to cope with seeing things I shouldn't have and learning things I have to know.

I'm Filthy Scum, being thrown against an alley wall after tapping out at an ATM, unable to pay for another round of poker despite my craving for the rush and distraction that the cards brought.

I'm Seeley again, and I'm addicted to gambling.

I'm The New Agent, fresh out of Quantico, with a charm smile that melts women's hearts and investigative skills that rival any veteran agent's; ready to take the Bureau by storm.

I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, to all the suspects and families in our cases; the bringer of bad news and the enforcer of justice.

I'm Daddy, to my son; and this is one of my favorites.

I'm Special Agent FB Eye-candy, to a certain joker that has been pushing us both toward the inevitable for four years.

I'm Booth, to her; and this is my other favorite.

And her? Well, that came to me too, less forceful this time, like I knew all along but just forgot. A mental block. But it had passed; my mind had finally made the connection, and I remembered clearly, like how the world looks after a rain storm. Crystal clear, like rebirth was a tangible thing reflected in nature.

She's Tempe, to those that leave her: her family, when she was young; her lovers and boyfriends. Odd how much it sounds like 'temporary'; ironically reflecting the status of (most of) her relationships.

She's Temperance, to some, but not many; a strong woman, sometimes an ice queen, but with the willpower to get things done and a very literal personality.

She's Stupid Kid, to the families that were so 'kind' as to take her in during her time in the system, and so 'kind' as to beat her and lock her in the trunk of a car and do other horrible things whenever she gave them the slightest reason to do so.

She's Girl, to the men in some of the bad families, the ones who took what was hers without even a hint of remorse. One of her firsts, meant to be given to the right one when the right time came, when _she_ was ready, taken from her unwillingly.

She's Brennan, to her colleagues, those she trusts enough to work with; her team, her new family.

She's Bren, to her best friend, who understands a little, and proves her love by trying to unravel the tangled web that is her emotions.

She's Dr. Brennan, to other less familiar colleagues, those she nods at in the hallways of the Jeffersonian, and to her interns, who avoid familiarity in the interest of their grades and professionalism.

She's Dr. B, to the most familiar co-workers, who are more family than colleagues anyway, and who belong to her inner-most circles of trust and respect.

She's Bones, to me. Only me. _Only_ Bones to me, except when she's Temperance, when I have to get her attention or really drive a point home.

And the next thing I remember, which hits harder than my first group of memories, floors me.

I almost died. Twice.

I love her.

Her eyes. Her smile. Her voice. Her rationality. Her genius. Her strength. Her bluntness. Her need to love and be loved. Her cute butt. Her willpower. Her feistiness. Her lack of interpersonal skills. Her ability to learn and adapt. Her newfound desire to become a mother. All her features and her best traits. All her flaws and weaknesses.

Hopelessly. Irrevocably.

Does she love me? Yeah, I think so.

Did she see the spark of recognition in my eyes? C'mon eyes, spark, spark for her. Yes, okay, she saw it. She's smiling a little now.

"Bones," my dry mouth produces only this, but even if my mouth wasn't lacking moisture, I wouldn't be able to speak. Her mouth covered mine, softly, gently. We stayed like this for a while; I'm not sure how long. It felt like days, but it also felt like a nanosecond. It was endless and yet over much too soon.

When we broke apart, her forehead rested against mine, a slight smile gracing her beautiful lips.

"While you were recovering, I did some thinking."

I could only nod, I couldn't find words at this point.

"And I realized, love _does_ exist. You were right all along. And," she pauses, looking me straight in the eye, "I love you, Booth. More than I ever thought possible."

"Bones," I croak, willing my salivary glands to continue functioning. "I love you, too." Her smile grows into one of those smiles that people get when they're ridiculously happy or giddy. I'm sure my face mirrored hers; I could feel the corners of my mouth turning up into a grin.

She brought her hand up to my cheek, her soft skin brushing against four days worth of stubble on my face. She leaned in again, and as our lips met, her eyes closed. My lids shut, the feel of our mouths connected intensifying. I traced her bottom lip with my tongue, and explored her mouth when her lips parted. As our tongues mapped the uncharted territory, my hand found hers. Our fingers intertwined, and as she pulled back for air, I looked into her eyes.

I saw the eyes, the nose, the jaw, the hair, the fair skin our children would have. I saw them together with my own features in a baby girl, a baby boy, a small toddler. A girl with dark auburn hair and blue-green eyes, a boy with chocolate eyes and brown hair with a hint of red, her intelligence and my people skills all balanced perfectly in our children. We balanced each other, perfectly. We fit each other, perfectly; lips, bodies, minds, _hearts_. Her heart was beyond overdrive, it was moving at the speed of light, just like that brilliant mind of hers. My gaze traveled back to her eyes, looking deep into them. I didn't just see her soul, or her mind, or her heart.

I saw our past.

I saw the present.

I saw our future, better, together.


End file.
